


As I walked out one morning...

by prettylights_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-25
Updated: 2005-12-25
Packaged: 2018-12-07 01:30:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11613114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettylights_archivist/pseuds/prettylights_archivist
Summary: by brighty.





	As I walked out one morning...

**Author's Note:**

> Note from diana, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Pretty Lights](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Pretty_lights), which closed for financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Pretty Lights collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/prettylights/profile).

"So, you're looking bright and cheerful this morning." David waltzed in, and immediately began to antagonize everyone in his path. He had coffee, it was sunny outside, and things were going well. Even the exhausted technicians did nothing more than glare at him when he nearly knocked over a table of lighting gels. 

This, in retrospect, probably signalled the beginning of the end. The lighting techs never smiled at anyone. There had been attempts, from tactful and quiet (whoever was the director's assistant) to blunt (everyone else, especially David and James) to figure out why the techs looked so unhappy. James had decided, a few weeks ago, that there was not enough sex in the "sad people's" lives, and the crew in general, needed more fulfilment. The mischievous glint in his eye, and the extra saunter he left with were more than a little freaky. David figured he'd hear more about the plan when all of the female techs came down with some horrible and disfiguring disease, but he was content to sit back and wait for the inevitable explosions that accompanied James' plans. 

David thought about this for a moment, and then meandered over to the craft services table. He wanted more coffee. He tried to juggle his Discman into the back pocket of his jeans, but the script, pen and it were a bit difficult, and when he dropped them all, David felt like a bit of an idiot. 

Nodding to himself, David saw that there was still plenty of time to talk, and figure out what he was supposed to be doing. This had nothing to do with the fact that he hadn't really learned the speech Angel was supposed to be giving about defeating evil, and eating Pop-Tarts. He figured that Pop-Tarts probably featured less prominently than he had imagined. 

One of the many problems of the natural diet Ingrid had put him on: he was fantasising about food. Oh, ketchup, and McDonalds, he thought, lustfully. Although it was probably a good idea, seeing as Ingrid had threatened to withhold sex if he didn't start treating himself better. David was not sure of the logic, but he knew that there was no real contest between sex and junk food, however much he liked the artificial cherry flavouring that seemed to be in everything. 

He figured it was time to actually do something with his cup, not just wait for it to cool. He dismissed the idea of flicking it at people as they walked by, and not only because they'd probably kill him. David could see, at the furthest end of the table, Chris hunched over a bowl. It looked like he'd just woken up, so David kindly made a second cup of coffee, and managed to carry it to Chris. As David sat down, he thought he saw a snarl, but in a moment, Chris was back to looking less evil. 

"Man, coffee? It's only" and Chris brushed his sweater sleeve off the face of his watch, "ten-thirty, and you're giving me coffee? Why do we have to be doing things now?" Chris sighed loudly, before David could respond. Reaching over to ruffle his friend's hair, David tried to steal what Chris had in his bowl, which turned out to be dry chocolately cereal. 

David pulled his hand back, aborting the attempt when it became clear that despite no coffee, Chris had some good reflexes. David knew that a few afternoons on the shooting rage had keyed him up, and he'd been better at not dropping things, but damn, the country boy really could do it. 

"Who the hell eats cereal without milk? Is it some new diet thing?" David had a moment of panic, because Ingrid would hear about it, and he liked a bit of dairy. This fear was quickly assuaged when he remembered that Chris fried apples, and wouldn't be caught dead with anything healthy. David liked that, he figured that it showed all the good things about Chris; how he didn't care about trendy stuff, how easy going he was, and even that lovable feeling of warmth that he radiated. David thought that Chris needed a girlfriend. 

"You need a new girlfriend." David abruptly stated. 

Chris looked like he was going to die of shock. 

David smiled nonchalantly. 

"Sorry, when did you become my mother? She worries enough for an army, and doesn't need your help!" As Chris hurriedly spoke, David smiled and leaned back. "It's not as though moving out here didn't freak her out enough, now you've got to jump in, and it's going to be hell." Putting his head in his hands, Chris sighed into his empty bowl. 

"I'm just watching out for you. Really, Chris, we need to work on this." Recently married, David was attempting to get all of his friends coupled up. He was determined, no matter how awkward it became.   
"But, Jesus. Sneaking up on a guy like that, David. And we haven't even started filming. It's a bit much, don't you think?" Chris was clearly testing his ability to reason with crazy people, and had taken on a more conciliatory tone. "David, you're one of my best friends, and I do appreciate the concern, but I'm sure that I can find a date without random interventions." 

"So, will you find a date? Soon?" Now that he had latched to the idea, David was not going to let it go. He really did have his friend's happiness in mind, and nothing was going to stop him, not even Chris' rejection of the plan. 

Chris sighed again. He knew David was a little insane, but springing this sort of thing on someone? Beyond weird. "Do you remember Angela? She was the one..." Chris drew an hourglass shape in the air. David nodded. "James set me up with her, and we did the whole regular date routine. Normal stuff, going out to dinner, bars, whatever, right? Even though all the bars are crappy here, with all those mixed drinks and whatever." 

David held up his hand, motioning for Chris to stop. He would go off, and complain about bars, and whatever else came into his mind, and how LA generally sucked. David usually agreed with Chris, but he wanted to hear the story of Angela. 

"Okay, so bar aside, the two of us are doing those nice, normal things. And I'm good at this, and a couple weeks into it, she suggests we go to this new place. I'm not going to say no, I mean, it is nice that she's independent, and not really clinging on to my plans." Chris waited for a second, while David nodded in acknowledgement of the truth. "And this when the fact that James introduced us becomes clear. 

"I go to pick her up," David remembered that Chris always did the really polite thing, and David could tease him about being a Southern boy. "So, I get there, and she's got another guy there. Now, I wasn't going to whine about us being something special, but, you know, there was that moment of "oh god" when I saw them. So, you see why me and these LA girls aren't really getting along?" 

David nodded. There wasn't much he could say to that. Chris, having finished his breakfast, got up, and went off to work. He trailed laces off of his sneakers, and David was sure that someone would trip over them, but only in the back of his mind. He was really thinking that Chris needed better luck with the ladies. Maybe Ingrid could help him, she was good at that. 

He slipped the headphones back on. Chris would have whined about the "sixties trash" and given David hell, but for now, he was content to lean back, listen to Jerry Garcia, and forget about his script.


End file.
